


get your game on

by torigates



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry," he says very slowly. "Did you just insinuate that you wanna hook up with <i>Kessel</i>?" </p><p>Jonny hadn't meant to, exactly. But when he puts it that way. She shrugs, and rolls over so she's on her side, looking at him, one hand tucked up under her chin. "You hear things," she says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	get your game on

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to ferritin4 for the original idea and concept.

Jonny would think, after seven years living half of her year out of hotel rooms, she'd be use to it, but there's a certain liminality about the whole thing that's designed to keep people _from_ getting used to it. She sighs and stretches, trying to work out the kink in her lower back but it doesn't really work. 

Also, she's drunk. 

Not as drunk as last night, mind you. Jonny doesn't think _anyone_ is as drunk tonight as they were at the draft, but there was a fair bit of drinking after the skills competition. 

The game tomorrow should be fun. 

Duncs and the rest of the guys called it an early night, as has been his habit more and more lately. She’s pretty sure he and Sharpy went back to their rooms to call their girlfriends. 

To be honest, Jonny's a little jealous. 

She's also horny. 

She's got Brent keeping her company, at least. They're watching coverage of today's events because apparently they're just that big of hockey nerds, and living it once wasn't enough (Jonny's also not-so-secretly a bit of a narcissist, so). 

She sighs again. 

"What's wrong?" Brent asks without taking his eyes off the television. 

"Nothing," Jonny says. She shifts on the bed again, and then after a moment-- "What do you think Kessel's doing?" 

Brent slots a look at her. "I have no fucking clue, Tazer. _Why_?" 

Another sigh. "No, reason. Did you see him down at the bar when we left?" 

Brent's looking at her like she's legitimately crazy now. "No? I dunno? Seriously, what the fuck are you talking about?" 

"Nothing," she says. "I'm just horny." 

Silence. 

Jonny arches her back and stretches out her legs, and it honestly feels so fucking good. Maybe she can kick Brent out of here in a bit. 

"I'm sorry," he says very slowly. "Did you just insinuate that you wanna hook up with _Kessel_?" 

Jonny hadn't meant to, exactly. But when he puts it that way. She shrugs, and rolls over so she's on her side, looking at him, one hand tucked up under her chin. "You hear things," she says. 

"About fucking what?" he asks. "From _who_?" 

This is, well. It's actually pretty funny watching him get all riled up. There's a faint blush over the bridge of his nose like he doesn't hear worse every day in the locker room. Like he hasn't heard worse from her. 

"Uh, oral sex," she says as casually as she can. "For one thing. And some people have mentioned his dick, just an fyi." 

"Which people? Did-- has Sharpy fucked him?" His voice is completely strangled now, and that's the moment Jonny decides. Fuck it, she's going all in on this. 

"No," she says. "Sharpy's gay, asshole, and Abby would murder him." 

Jonny can see him mentally working through the list of girls from whom Jonny might have acquired this information. His face looks especially rosy underneath his beard, and she takes a moment to soak in the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest. How fucking solid his thighs look, one foot crossed over the one at the end of the bed. 

"But--" he sputters. "Kessel?" 

"Come on," she says, outright laughing now. "Why do you think I picked him first? He's very... coachable." She licks her lips for emphasis. 

“Oh my god,” he groans. “You did not just say that.” 

“All right,” she says. She glances at him sidelong out of the corner of her eye. She doesn’t think she is misinterpreting things here, Brent is _jealous_. 

She can’t deny the thrill of pleasure that sends shooting up her spine. She’s had a thing for him forever, ever since she was a rookie. She never thought he would look at her twice, perpetually stuck assigned to the little sister role. 

He is looking at her now, although he is trying to be subtle about it. His eyes drop down, catching on the soft curve of her breasts under her threadbare t-shirt. She isn’t wearing a bra--she lost her modesty around Seabs a long time ago--and it is cold enough in the hotel room she is certain her nipples are straining against the fabric. 

His eyes drop down to her thighs, bare below the baggy shorts she is wearing, and up again to the hollow of her throat. 

Biting down a smile, she stretches her arms over her head, and scratches her stomach, drawing the hem of the shirt up a couple inches. 

Brent looks away quickly, and draws the leg closest to her up, bending it at the knee. Conveniently shielding his crotch from view. 

_Ah ha_ , she thinks. _Gotcha._

“I should,” Brent says. His voice comes out harsh, and he clears his throat. “I should--” He gestures to the door.

Jonny nods and climbs to her feet. “Sure,” she says, taking half a step between the two beds. Brent has to look up at her like this, baring his throat to her. “You could go,” she leans down, one palm flat on the headboard so her tits are practically in his face. “Or,” she swings one leg over his and settles herself on his lap. His dick his a hardline under her ass, and she rubs herself against him. “You could stay.” 

His hands flex on her hips, an involuntary movement, and she leans in closer, the tips of their noses barely brushing. 

Brent’s mouth drops open, his lower lip shiny and wet, and his breath comes out in short pants. Jonny licks her lips, trying to taste it, and her tongue catches on his mouth. That’s how close they are. 

“Jonny…” he says. “We shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” she asks. 

Brent’s hands slide around her hips, coming to rest low on her back just above the swell of her ass. The calluses on his palms catch on her bare skin, dry and a little bit patchy from the cold, no matter how many times she moisturizes. 

“I don’t know,” he says. They still aren’t kissing, but they may as well be given the way their mouths bump up against each other each time they talk or breathe. “You were my rookie.” His hands are sliding up her back, pulling her t-shirt along and revealing more of her skin. 

“Not a rookie anymore,” she says.

“I noticed,” he says, voice dry. 

Jonny wraps her arms around his shoulders. She can _feel_ herself getting wetter at his words, the sound of his voice. She’s wanted him forever and the idea that it might be reciprocal? Shit. Her thighs clench around his hips, and she rocks down, his cock _almost_ where she wants it. 

“Did you?” she asks.

“Fuck,” he groans. His hands splay across her ribs. The tips of his fingers brush the underside of her breasts, and she sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Brent,” she gasps. “Fuck, _please_.”

He cups her, his hands hot and huge on her tits. She groans and thrusts her chest forward when he swipes his thumbs over her nipples. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” she chants, moaning and rocking her hips down, desperate for some kind of relief where she needs it most. 

He pulls her shirt up and over her head, leaving her bare to him from the waist up. It is gratifying, the way his eyes go dark. Jonny shudders at the pure want in his expression, but she doesn’t have a chance to truly soak it in before his mouth is on her, hot and wet. 

He sucks on her nipple, his teeth scraping against her sensitive skin. She threads her fingers through his hair, tugging on it. She watches with fascination as his lips release her nipple with a wet pop, a line of spit connecting his mouth to her body. 

She can’t wait any longer, and uses her grip on his hair to pull his head up to her, kissing him wetly, a clash of teeth and tongue. He groans into her mouth, his arms wrapping around her and hitching their bodies together, chest to chest. The fabric of his shirt feels amazing on her bare nipples, and she rocks against him, chasing the feeling of his body. 

“God, Jonny,” he groans, and she can feel the rumbling in his chest. He peppers kisses down her jaw and neck, applying more of that hot, wet suction to her skin. “Do you even know what you look like? What you do to me?” 

“No, but you should tell me.” She reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and revealing his beautiful chest. She puts her palm flat on his breastbone, stroking her thumb back and forth, enjoying the feel of his bare skin. 

“Want you,” he gasps, capturing her, capturing her mouth in another kiss. “Wanted you for so long.”

She pulls back and smiles at him. “Oh yeah? How long?” 

He is slow to answer, a dull flush making its way down his chest. It’s enough for her to pounce on. 

“I used to hear you sometimes, you know,” she says, matter-of-fact. She grinds down on him. 

He groans, and his head tilts back against the headboard. “What? When?”

She leans forward, her breasts rubbing against the hair on his chest. “When we lived together.” 

His hips jerk underneath her. 

“Yeah,” she whispers, her mouth directly next to his ear. “I’d hear you with the women you brought home, the walls weren’t that thick, Brent.”

“Oh god,” he groans, his face red--whether from embarrassment or arousal, or some combination of the two.

“I’d hear them moaning and gasping on your dick, hear you fucking them so good.” 

His hands grasp her tits, pulling on her nipples with nimble fingers, his mouth hot and wet on her neck. 

“I’d wish it were me,” she pants, pleasure coursing through her. “I always wanted it to be me.” 

He groans and flips them. Jonny finds herself on her back, her legs wrapped around Brent’s hips. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh below her shorts. His fingers stroke briefly over the wet fabric of her underwear, before pushing it aside and plunging two fingers inside her. Jonny gasps, her body trying to arch off the bed, but she is pinned beneath Brent’s considerable bulk. 

He strokes her hard and fast, his thumb pressing steadily on her clit, building her orgasm faster than she could have thought possible. His fingers are relentless inside her, and her hips keep trying to hitch upwards. 

“God,” she gasps. “Brent, fuck, please--” 

“I got you, baby. I got you.” He kisses her neck, behind her ear, uses the other hand to stroke her nipples in time with his fingers inside her. “Jonny,” he groans. “You know what, beautiful? I wanted them to be you too.” 

“Oh, _fuck_.” She clenches down around him, coming in waves, and he strokes her through it, relentless. He doesn’t give her a chance to come down before he is building her up again, and she can hear her panting, loud and harsh in the otherwise quiet of the room. 

“God,” she says, hips rocking up to meet Brent’s hand. His wrist has got to be getting tired, but she is so close. “Oh god, oh god, oh fuck--” 

He kisses her then, sucking on her tongue as her body clenches and shudders through a second orgasm, until she is nothing but an incoherent mess. 

He draws his hand out slowly, and she kicks her shorts and underwear down with shaky legs. 

“Take off your clothes,” she says, eyes lidded. “I want you to fuck me.” 

He pushes his sweats down over his hips, freeing his cock, and Jonny lets out an involuntary squeak.

He smiles smugly at her, and she rolls her eyes. 

“It’s not that big,” she says, trying and probably failing to find some composure. 

“Oh yeah?” Brent asks, stroking along the shaft with one hand. He looks completely comfortable, and Jonny can admit it’s deserved. She always knew he was big, but turns out he’s a shower _and_ a grower.

“It’ll fit,” he says, still smirking. 

“I now it’ll-- I wasn’t worried about that!” 

He lets out of a hum of amused agreement, and drops down to the bed between her legs, kissing her again. His dick is hot and hard sliding along the crease of her thigh, and his mouth is relentless on hers. Three orgasms in one night wouldn’t be a personal record for her, but it is close, and he is already working her halfway to three. 

“Roll over for me, baby,” he murmurs against her mouth. “Wanna see that ass.” 

His hands on her hips are firm, and he flips her before she has a moment to take it in. She blames her orgasm-riddled brain for her slow reaction times, but his palm ghosting over the curve of her ass distracts her again. 

“You gonna do something other than stare?” she asks, looking at him over her shoulder.

“You got a suggestion?” 

She opens her mouth, but before she can get a word out, his hand comes down on the meat of her ass, cracking loudly. She groans, her face burning as her hips tilt up for more without her permission. 

“Yeah, you always have something to say, don’t you? You’ve always been like this, even as a rookie. It used to drive me fucking crazy the way you’d harp after me about my play or eating habits. Wanted to put you over my knee and--” 

She groans even before his hand comes down on her ass a second time. The image is potent. Jonny remembers what she was like at eighteen, always panting after Brent. If he ever made any kind of overture she would have been on his dick in a hot second. 

Back then, she was so scared and overwhelmed pretty well that whole year. The second one too, if she is being honest. She gets why Brent never acted on his feelings, she might even be a little glad of it, but imagining it now from the safety of time and distance… She can just see herself back then, young and scared, not knowing when to shut up. Picturing Brent taking her like that, fuck. 

“Oh shit,” she groans caught up in the fantasy. Brent’s harsh breath tells her he’s just as far gone. 

“Later, later,” Jonny chants, thinking about the fun they could have. “Come on, fuck me, fuck me, Brent, please.” 

He groans, and arranges her so she’s on her knees, head pillowed on her folded arms. She watches him over her shoulder, the way he slides his cock along the crease of her ass. The head of his cock drags along, teasing her. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” she chants. “Put it in me already.” 

“I don’t--” he starts. “Condom?” 

She pauses for for a second. “Shit, I don’t--” 

He slumps down on top of her, his body covering her completely. His dick is still notched between her legs, not inside but the hint of pressure. 

“God, fuck it,” she says. “I don’t care if you don’t.” 

“Yeah?” he said. “Because I really wanna get inside you.” 

“Oh fuck.” She drops her head to the mattress, and shifts her hips backward. 

His hands slide up around her hips, and there’s the blunt pressure of his cockhead splitting her open, and the forward motion in, in, _in_. When he’s seated all the way inside her, he pauses for a moment. 

“Shit,” she breathes, adjusting to the stretch. “You’re fucking big.” 

He presses a gentle kiss between her shoulder blades, and she can feel his smile. 

“You know how to use that thing?” she asks. 

“For fuck’s sake, Joannie.” He says her full name full anglo, the way Sharpy does whenever he wants to get under her skin. 

Before she can open her mouth on a smart retort, he pulls back, a long smooth glide, before sliding back home again. 

“Oh fuck,” she grunts. 

That’s the last thing she gets out before he’s fucking her hard and fast. His hands are on her hips, holding her steady, and Jonny is just along for the ride. Her breath his coming fast, sharp little ‘ah, ah’s escaping with every thrust. She slides her hand down between her legs, rubbing her clit with quick circles. 

“Yeah, Jonny, yeah,” he chants. “Touch yourself, baby, want you to come.” He slides one palm over her belly and up, playing with her nipples. The pace of his hips is steady and unrelentless, and he bends his torso down over her body, covering her and holding her down. She feels protected and devoured simultaneously, and Brent just keeps fucking and fucking her, so sure and steady, that her orgasm, when it comes, is not in a rush, but a slow, all consuming wave of pleasure, crashing over her again and again and again. 

Brent fucks her through it and beyond, and Jonny floats through it. She turns her head so he can kiss her, and when he comes it’s with her tongue in his mouth. 

He lies on top of her for a moment before rolling to the side, opening his arm for her to settle next to him. Her whole body feels wrung out, and she chuckles a little to herself. 

“What?” he asks, lifting his head off the bed to look at her. 

“I can’t believe that just happened.” 

He tenses. 

“I mean,” she hastens. “I’ve wanted you for so long, and it just never seemed like--” 

He places his hand on her cheek, and turns her to face him. “Hey,” he says. “Me too.” He leans in and places a soft, sweet kiss on her mouth, slow and lingering. And when she settles, something tight within her eases. She doesn’t want to examine it too closely, doesn’t want to think about what exactly this means, or what tomorrow will bring for them. Right now she just wants to enjoy this. To enjoy him here, in her bed. 

“Good thing it’s just the All Star Game tomorrow,” she says around a yawn. “I think you completely wore me out.” 

There’s a small, pleased smile playing on his lips when she looks up at him. 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“You know you’re good.” She flashes back, briefly, to being eighteen and jealous, having to listen to Brent with women who weren’t her, having to talk to them in the morning sometimes. 

“Hey,” he says again. “It was good because it’s us. That’s it.” 

There is a certainty in his voice she can’t ignore, has never been able to ignore. It’s one thing that always drew Jonny to Brent in the first place, how calm and steady he was. When everyone is always looking to Jonny for something, she knows he’s always there for her. Her tether in the storm. It wasn’t just that first rookie year he got her through, but every year since, he’s the one that kept her going, that makes it possible to do what she does. Sure, she has wanted him forever like this, but more importantly she has _always_ wanted him as a friend. 

“We’re gonna be okay, aren’t we?” she asked. 

Brent leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. “‘Course,” he says. “Always are, always will be.” 

She settles down in the crook of his arm. “Kay,” she says sleepily. “Don’t go anywhere.” She is already half asleep, too far gone to know if she means tonight, or in general. 

Brent hugs her to him, and she thinks it probably doesn’t matter. “I won’t,” he says.


End file.
